It blooms in the wilderness.

It starts here.

Nine times out of ten, it must be something impossible.

Joo Gwang-shin seemed to have understood what Jeong Yeon-shin was trying to do. Suddenly, he slammed both arms into the cliff and removed himself from the younger man's back.

Rumble—

As the vast cliff trembled slightly.

The old beggar spoke in a rough voice.

"It was nothing special at first. When I was young, a stray dog I cared for almost got eaten by other beggar bastards. It was also a trick to get food faster than the others next to me. So remember this. When you run, your intention must be simple. No stray thoughts...."

It is something special.

Originally, concise incantations like this, with great effect, were said to be the most precious.

Anyone who is a peerless expert can twist their inner energy into an endless spiral. But the overwhelming explosive power carried by that form—that was something only Joo Gwang-shin possessed.

Their lives were different, and so were their intentions.

"Anyway, it changed a little later. After I met your grandfather. I took the heart of the Spear Lance Sword Queen, and treated this poor beggar’s secret as some circus bear's trick... I felt that unless I was faster than that bastard, I'd explode inside. And so it became that way. I never got the chance to truly compete, not even when that damned Ma finally fell."

Jeong Yeon-shin absorbed everything like water. He deeply empathized in his mind and consumed the life he’d never lived with his heart.

It wasn’t thanks to talent.

It was only possible because he was destined for a short life.

And the bitter lament of the aged beggar—was an intention fitting for the ultimate operation of inner energy. Joo Gwang-shin’s life was the proof.

The fastest man under the heavens.

The old warrior who owned nothing had already climbed much higher up the cliff than Jeong Yeon-shin, embedding his arms in it. A display of remarkable intuition. It also meant he had nothing left to say.

‘Ten... Nine...’

The countdown until the Formation of Different Void of the Invincible of the Small Heavens would be fully charged.

Jeong Yeon-shin began counting numbers in his head. While sensing the vast entirety of the black capital beyond the mirror-like wilderness.

In front of the castle gate, the booming voice of Mun Gok roared like a lion’s roar. The sword-wielding demon of the Quiet Star Sword House stirred waves of /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ earth with dozens of blade strikes.

The Great King Vajra played with a net of blue lightning along with three black figures, and the Lord of the Lava Fortress kept shaking the ground like an earthquake to stop the Lord of the Heavenly Extreme Sect from reclaiming his sword.

Streaks of lightning and translucent heat waves billowed in every direction.

Nothing but a deafening vibration and thunderous noise.

And more still.

The martial forces stationed all across the black capital and their commanding warriors, the Northern Kings completely sealing off the broken palace at the center.

The war demon of the North let out a thunderous neigh, and the crescent blade of Yeomjeong slammed into the palace like iron bars.

The Law King raised different-colored skills in each hand, and Heavenly Patriarch Noban and the black ring of Aesingarakra radiated a crushing pressure just by standing still.

The God of Combat, the Southern Emperor, and the Invincible of the Small Heavens were obscured among them. Naturally, they must be closest to the ivory-colored altar.

An impregnable fortress that allowed no one to break through. The power of an entire nation, second only to Ming.

―Right side! Shift the formation to the right!

―There are solid defenders there. Divine Sword Corps, Absolute Combat...! Cavalry, over here!

―Quiet Star Sword Lord and Lord Vajra, move based on the central road. Even with the Divine Sword Corps’ Black Swords driving forward, we must hold the exact center of the capital. If necessary, you may deflect the enemy at melee range.

Far-off transmissions rained down like arrows. Not just the martial forces of the black capital, even Mun Gok of the Six Liu Yuan Star Generals did not withhold his counsel.

He could feel it.

Each one cleverly blocking Jeong Yeon-shin’s path.

Now, everyone was aware of the Master of the Divine Sword Corps and was clearly guarding against him. Fitting for the capital of the demon realm where no one is weak.

‘Three, two.’

Jeong Yeon-shin silently counted. The time left until enough energy was supplied to the ivory-colored altar.

It felt like he had crossed an eternity.

All the events in the demon realm felt distant now. As if it had all happened just for this moment.

Once he counted down to one, he slowly parted his lips.

[Open the main road.]

Though the entire black capital was wary of the Master of the Divine Sword Corps, there were still those who always paid attention to Jeong Yeon-shin. The three divisions of the Divine Sword Corps and the grand lords in black robes.

They reacted immediately.

The First Divine Sword Unit moved first. They had gotten closest to the palace, then suddenly veered to the side and smashed straight through a cavalry formation that included several great warriors.

Rumble—

Even from far away, the thunder was clear. A roar like thunder devoured by dark clouds.

They used Radiant Explosions for both directional propulsion and charging shockwaves. Every member was wrapped in a faint white light, and the same was true for the Second and Third Divine Sword Units.

Kwakwakwakwang!

They pierced through the clusters of high officials’ pavilions, tearing through other martial forces from the rear.

Amid the flying shards of white shockwave and metal fragments, the Northern Kings stationed throughout the metropolis were all pushed or thrown in various directions.

Mun Gok and the Quiet Star Sword Lord were hurled to the right and left of the central castle gate, and Vajra—known for lightning-fast aerial movement—was blown all the way to the eastern lake inside the black capital.

This all happened the moment the Radiant Explosions of the black grandmasters were fired in twentyfold overlap. Perhaps because of the Jeong family’s movement technique. A faint white shimmer naturally clung to each of their signature martial arts.

Meanwhile, the body of the Lord of the Lava Fortress was in three pieces. Above the city’s central well.

His head, torso, and lower body floated separately within two warped spatial gaps. Beside him, the blind swordsman in a bamboo hat gently stroked his sword with his fingertips.

“......”

The Divine Sword Corps had opened the black capital.

Literally, for just a moment. It was undoubtedly a brief moment of indulgence. But for Jeong Yeon-shin, there was no broader straight path.

He vanished from where he stood.

Fwaaaaaah—!

The next instant, his afterimage stretched across the dozen li leading to the Black Palace. The cliff he had launched from shattered into pieces within a circular shockwave at the same time.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s body leapt away with a landslide at his back.

With a single bound, he folded space endlessly and soared.

In a split second, the giant Mun Gok reacted like a ghost and pounced toward Jeong Yeon-shin’s ankle, but already, a black-robed swordsman stabbed a blade into Mun Gok’s shoulder and dragged him back to the ground.

Jeong Family Movement Art of the Divine Sword Corps

Chapter of the Ghost Howl Overlord

A woman whose spinal erectors glowed faintly on both sides of her back. High Commander Yoon So-yu.

No interference would be allowed. As long as the grand lords had their eyes open, what the Master of the Divine Sword Corps would face was only one-on-one combat.

KWAaaaaaANG—!

Waves erupted in succession behind Jeong Yeon-shin. Transcendent acceleration repeated itself.

The towering palace buildings on both sides warped and flashed past, and before long he was atop the stairs leading into the Black Palace.

And there he stood.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

A wounded, limping man walking on air with one leg dragging behind him. He responded so naturally, it was as if he had expected it.

‘A monster of combat power...!’

In a moment split again and again, he was already staring at Jeong Yeon-shin. Ash-grey skin, lips curled in a smile.

The God of Combat.

A shiver, sharp as a blade, ran down Jeong Yeon-shin’s spine. Was this what it felt like to face the Lord of Ipwang Fortress as an enemy—crude and savage to the core?

So. Damn. Fast.

The word formed by the God of War’s lips.

It was a chilling sight. He had caught up to Jeong Yeon-shin’s speed domain through pure cognitive perception. The moment he was within striking distance, his fist came down like a meteor, ready to drive the Divine Sword Sect Master into the ground.

But Jeong Yeon-shin had already read something from the God of War’s body. There was no need to collide with the pinnacle of the martial world head-on just yet.

Fwoooosh!

Still, he came crashing in like a comet. He had never once braked. The moment stretched, warped into a dreamlike line of motion. He hadn’t even touched the hilt of Yeoroe.

“Tch.”

The God of War let out a dry laugh—and his face suddenly swelled to fill Jeong Yeon-shin’s field of vision.

Flap—

He heard it then. A sound like silk fluttering. The refined scent of the Forbidden City in Beijing seemed to drift into his nose.

It reminded him of the moment Emperor Gunreung once handed him a hem of violet silk.

Ah.

In an instant, the God of War turned semi-transparent, vanishing like that day’s long-robed general. Jeong Yeon-shin touched down at the Black Blade Palace, shedding the phantom of the hulking figure like a cloak.

KWA-A-A-A-A-AANG—!

The atmosphere tore open with a thunderous roar. But he didn’t stop.

One more step. In a space of blistering speed he’d never experienced before, he silently took another stride, breaking through the palace walls like a living blade and passing even the Northern Kings.

“......!”

Aisin Gioro Heukhwan’s long fingers brushed the end of his violet robe. He reacted in time—but Jeong Yeon-shin had already hooked his arm around So Cheonmujuk’s narrow, angular shoulders.

Their muscles clashed, firm and unyielding, soft skin pressing close.

―Don’t you want mutual destruction?

He whispered into her ear like an incarnation of demonic wrath. The third halo was spinning, now in black.

So Cheonmujuk froze for a split second—he felt it with his entire body—and Jeong Yeon-shin drew out two bright yellow sheets of Pagoda Yellow Paper from his robe.

From one side, Liu Yuan Star Lord Yeom Jeong, Bukdo, and the Southern Emperor were charging toward Jeong Yeon-shin.

Any two of them together could assuredly kill the Divine Sword Sect Master. Alone, each was a celestial star of the demon realm who could tip the scales of battle. But their response had come too late. Did they truly trust the Demonic Cult Master bound as the Western Thousand Name King?

Jeong Yeon-shin thought: You should’ve trusted what’s trustworthy.

Shhhk—

It happened in an instant. He placed the yellow sheets across the shimmering altar—and drew the flow of demonic energy infusing the foreign void formation into himself as if it were his own.

Martial formulas from ancient demon arts surged through his mind, unraveling at his fingertips:

Yozu Northern Sea Great Shift, Bright Phoenix Divine Form, Bewildering Illusion Demon Scripture, Divine Demon Eight Techniques...

All the energy enshrouding the altar was drawn into the two sheets.

For Jeong Yeon-shin, it was no different than circulating qi within his body. And still, So Cheonmujuk stood frozen. The very ground trembled for a moment.

KUGUGUGUGUNG—CRACK!

He blocked the Southern Emperor’s hand blade with a half-drawn Yeoroe, and took the blow of Bukdo’s descending axe with the internal qi barrier over his shoulder.

SPLASH—! Blood erupted from his shoulder tendon. But that was as far as it went. The massive blade didn’t cleave through his shoulder—it stopped short.

Heavy.

Feeling that overwhelming weight, he retreated using Six-Step Radiant Wing. Yeom Jeong’s crashing crescent blade missed its mark as Jeong Yeon-shin stepped backward in a way that seemed to rewind time.

Once he decides to retreat, no one can catch him. Jeong Yeon-shin was no exception to that rule.

Whoooshhhh!

A dozen strands of his hair were severed by a monstrous spear strike—but his attention remained fixed on the two sheets of Pagoda Yellow Paper. Aside from a single thunderous quake, there had been no clear response. Was it a failure?

Then—

A carefree whistle drifted down from the wide-open sky above the palace. At the same time, a spray of brilliant dust bloomed in the air.

The Northern Kings, who had entirely surrounded Jeong Yeon-shin, suddenly looked up.

Whooooom—

A stone chair shimmered in the air above. Smooth, perfectly sliced edges. The chair dropped unimpeded onto the highest seat of the Black Blade Palace—a seat even emperors had never been permitted to touch.

THUD!

Dust billowed around it. And sitting deep in that chair, a purple silhouette lounged lazily. One arm rested over the armrest, exuding absolute ease. Only one person sat there.

So it really was a failure.

So thought Jeong Yeon-shin.

One of the palace walls suddenly shimmered blue, then crumpled like a sheet of paper without a sound. The stone wall vanished.

And beyond it—

Step.

A figure in a pink robe walked forward from the distance in silence. There had been no warning. Only the clear sound of leather shoes pressing repeatedly into the earth.

Jeong Yeon-shin slowly began drawing Yeoroe.

From the moment the white hilt wrapped into his palm, his presence began to sink—heavy as dusk. Even his shadow grew darker.

Like the silhouette seated in the throne and the figure now entering the palace.

“.......”

No one spoke.

Three dusky points rose on the earth.